


Regina and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

by DarcyFarrow



Series: The Golds' Re-Wedding [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 12:13:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11161605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarcyFarrow/pseuds/DarcyFarrow
Summary: Keeping her promise to Gideon, Regina fights off the latest catastrophe herself while the Golds enjoy a day of peace and quiet.





	Regina and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Not for a single day in the past year had Regina slid out of her queen-sized bed before nine a.m. Along with weekly mani-pedis and monthly shopping excursions in New York, sleeping in was one of the rewards she’d gifted to herself after the mess the Black Fairy had made had been cleaned up and no new destroyers had emerged. So it was that when her phone rang insistently and she elevated one eyelid just enough to see that the light edging in through her window blinds was still a product of the moon, she rolled onto her stomach and wrapped one of her pillows around her head. Three dim thoughts flitted through her mind, granting her permission to sleep on: 1) the ring tone wasn’t “I’m a Believer”; thus, the caller wasn’t Henry; 2) last month she and the City Council had signed the new budget, granting Emma (or, in her absence, Acting Sheriff Nolan) permission to hire a night dispatcher and a second deputy; thus, any city emergencies were well covered by law enforcement; and 3) no one in her extended family was ill, injured, pregnant or even likely to be awake at this hour; thus, the call had to be a wrong number. The call went into voice mail and Regina went back to sleep.

Only to be immediately aroused by a hand roughly shaking her shoulder. “Regina! Regina, wake up!”

She shot a defensive fireball into the darkness as she scrambled to sit up, her blankets yanked to her chin. “What? What? Step back, whoever you are, or I’ll incinerate you.”

The lamp on her nightstand snapped on and yellow light gave her unwelcome visitor a halo. She was about to ask how he’d gotten past her security system, but as her eyes adjusted to the blare of light, she had her answer, from the long, elegant lines of the fine cloth draping the young man’s chest. “Armani,” she mumbled, then, “Gideon. I won’t ask how”—the smell of magic lingered in the air—”so why are you here?”

“It’s May 11.”

“It’s also 5 a.m. Are you telling me that among all that junk in your father’s shop, you couldn’t find a single wrist watch?” 

“Evil doesn’t sleep in.” Gideon magically slid her closet doors open. “It’s a chilly morning but sunshine is predicted, so I recommend dressing in layers.” He was quite pleased with his advice; he’d learned about layers from his mom. “I have breakfast waiting for you in your kitchen.”

In frustration she magically slammed the closet doors closed. “Gideon, what are your parents doing right now?”

“Huh?” 

“I’ll make a deal with you.” This, Regina suspected, would only be the first of several deals she’d be making with young Master Gold, now that she was on his radar, so she’d might as well get out ahead of him. “If your parents are awake and starting their day, I’ll get up. If not, I’m going back to bed.”

“But this is their wedding day.”

“Just what I thought.” Regina snapped her fingers, shutting the lamp off.  
\--------------------------------------  
At eight-thirty, Regina awoke gently to robins chirping outside her window and pale sunlight easing its way past her blinds. She sat up, stretched, scratched her head, yawned, ran a hot bath, as she did every morning, as she checked her email and phone messages. A calendar reminder of a one o’clock meeting with the head of Sanitation, a four o’clock conference call with the Chamber of Commerce’s Adult Education Committee, a report she needed to submit by five, and the Golds’ wedding at ten: the ordinariness of it all made her smile. She’d come to appreciate routine. 

She’d just lowered herself into her sunken tub when her phone rang. “Shut up,” she commanded it, sliding into the bubbles, but the disobedient thing demanded her immediate attention. “Gideon, if that’s you—” Then she focused on the ringtone: “The Theme from The Lone Ranger”—a tune she hadn’t heard in almost a year. David’s ringtone. She shot up out of the tub and snatched the phone. “Yes?”

“Regina, there’s been a break-in at the library.”

She forced herself to sound annoyed, but her hands shook a little. “Let me guess: you caught some teens making off with Fifty Shades of Grey.”

“I wish that was all it was,” David’s tone was clipped. “Whoever it was, they jimmied the front door lock—the flimsy one Belle put in a requisition to replace three months ago.”

Regina squirmed. Since she’d reformed, she’d been beleaguered too frequently by bouts of guilt over matters both big and small; it created a discomfort she’d never had to deal with before. “Yes, well, after all the monster damage the City has had to clean up in the past six years, our Maintenance Fund and Rainy Day Fund are depleted.”

“Can’t cough up twenty bucks for a lock?” David growled.

“May I remind you, Sheriff Nolan, the leadership of this town—including the former mayor, your wife—has had more urgent matters to attend to. Besides, who would want to break into a building full of books?”

“Someone did, obviously. May I remind you, Madame Mayor, about a month ago you asked Belle to translate an old book. 

Regina groaned, suddenly needing an aspirin. “The one written in Old Middle Fairy.”

“The very same.”

“The one she thinks is a spell book.”

“Right. The thief jimmied the lock on her desk, took the book and her notes.”

Regina hissed, a string of modern-day curse words carried on her breath. “Any witnesses, fingerprints, what-have-you?”

“Nope.”

“Wait a minute: isn’t there a squatter living in the apartment over the library, a runaway?”

“Emma chased her out. Sent her back home.”

“Just our luck: the one time she listens to me about enforcing vagrancy laws, it’s the one time I wish she’d listened to her bleeding heart instead. Remind me again why we don’t have any security cameras on our public buildings?” 

“Budget cuts.”

“Riiiight. All right, David, I authorize you to deputize the dwarfs. Send them out on the streets. Meet me at the library in five. If the intruder is a mage, maybe I can a handle on his magic marker.” She disconnected without a farewell and with a press of a button had Zelena on the phone. 

“What do you expect me to do about it, without my magic?” the former witch moaned.

“You’ve got as many connections in the Storybrooke Underground as I do. Ask around. Spread the word: there’ll be a reward, no questions asked, for the return of the book and those notes.”

“Sis, just out of curiosity, how far along did Belle get in her translations?”

“I don’t know, but however far she got, it was too far.”

Regina hated to admit when someone else was right; she hated even more to admit when she was wrong. But in this case, she had to find out just what they were up against, so as she slid into her car, she swallowed her pride and phoned Gideon. “Listen, Junior”—she’d taken to calling him that as a small insult, but the funny thing was, he liked it. The more the town teased him about his similarities with his father, the prouder he acted. 

“Yes, ma’am?” Well, at least the boy’s mom had been teaching him manners. 

“How far along has your mother gotten in translating that fairy book I gave her?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, then Gideon admitted, “I’m not sure. Seems like she mentioned something about it a couple of days ago, at breakfast, but I kinda busy texting. . . .”

“Try to remember. It’s important. Someone broke into the library and took her notes.”

A heavy groan filled the ether. “I’ll go over to the library and have a look.”

“No need. I’m on my way. In fact, it’s better if you keep an eye on your parents instead. No sense in them getting unnecessarily upset. But, ah, perhaps you could worm the information out of your mother. You know, kind of sneak up on it?”

“She’s gone already. Ruby’s treating her to a spa day. But I can ask someone there to bring up the subject.”

“Well, don’t go through the wolf girl. She couldn’t keep a secret if her diner depended on it. But we have to find out what spells we might be subjected to. If I have to, I’ll threaten to yank Mama Behar’s permits unless she gets the information—”

“Don’t go to those extremes. Look, the manicurist and I have kind of a—never mind. I’ll get the manicurist to find out. Call you back when I have an answer.” A click ended the conversation before Regina could come up with some snarky remark about Junior Gold and his nail-painting girlfriend.  
\---------------------------------------  
A scowling Acting Sheriff was standing, arms folded, outside the open door of the library as Regina parked her Mercedes along Main Street (ignoring the fire hydrant she was blocking). Marcos, his tool kit at his feet, was kneeling on the sidewalk and poking at the dangling back plate. “I can fix it, but it should be replaced. Immediately,” Marco advised, and Nolan’s scowl deepened as Regina, her heels clacking fiercely on the concrete, approached.

“How much for a new lock—a better lock?” Nolan glared at Regina.

“Seventy, eighty, plus thirty for labor.” 

“Fix it, right away. Send me the bill and I’ll take it to the pawnshop. I’m sure Mr. Gold would be happy to contribute such a small amount, for his wife’s safety,” David ordered.

“No, no, let’s not disturb him today,” Regina interrupted. “Send the bill to me. I’ll find some money somewhere.” The City’s Employee Christmas Card Fund, the Department Directors’ Coffee Fund. . . . Regina tightened her mouth at Nolan. During the brief time that Snow had been mayor, there had been no shortage of volunteers willing to do stuff for the town for free. They claimed to have forgiven Regina, but they weren’t above nickel-and-diming their grievances against her. She tossed her head, tossing the annoyance aside. “What can you tell from the break in, Sheriff?”

David pointed to the various pieces of the lock now strewn about the sidewalk. “They strong-armed it. No lock pick, so they were probably amateurs.”

“I’m going in.” 

With a sigh, Marco shoved the door open to admit the mayor and the sheriff. Regina surveyed the library itself but found nothing out of order, at least, as far as she could tell; she hadn’t set foot in this building since the September Readathon, where she’d been a celebrity reader ( _Fractured Fairy Tales_ had been her selection). 

“They didn’t take any of the computers,” David pointed out. “They knew what they were after and where to find it.” He led the way into Belle’s office. Tiny as it was (Belle didn’t mind; she spent most of her time out on the main floor) the two of them could barely fit in together. Nolan showed her the open desk drawer with its smashed lock. “Look at that.” He indicated a little leather coin purse in the desk, mixed in with packages of cough drops, pens and Kleenex. “There’s four dollars and five cents in the purse. They weren’t after money.”

“Humph. The wife of the richest man in the state keeps less than five bucks in her desk. I suppose she brown-bags her lunch,” Regina remarked.

Nolan curled his lip. “She keeps that change to help out kids that can’t afford to pay their library fines, so they can keep checking out books. Snow told me.”

Regina swallowed in embarrassment. “Speaking of fines, I didn’t see a cash register out there.”

“She uses a cash box. But it’s usually empty, filled only with IOU's.” He pointed to a locked drawer on the other side of the desk. 

“IOU’s. I see. City policy makes no provision for accepting IOU's in lieu of payment.” 

“They didn’t tamper with the cash box. They weren’t after money.”

“Magic users, then,” Regina surmised. “Give me a minute.” She closed her eyes and raised her hands, sending out pale pink tendrils of magic across the desk, into the broken lock and across the wooden floor. Her magic sniffed deeply and behind her closed lids she watched for flashes of light and color, but her magic-sonar returned no response. “Nothing.” She lowered her hands and opened her eyes. 

“So, not a magic user, then. But maybe a would-be magic user.”

“Maybe so. Whoever they are, they’re not garden variety thieves.”

“If they were, the library would’ve been the last place they’d’ve broken into.”

“All right. Keep investigating. Call me when you have something.” She walked back to her car and sat down behind the steering wheel, trying to think of a next step. Regina was about to dial Blue when the phone rang again. “They’re heeeere!” 

“Calm down, Dwarf, and tell me who’s here.” Regina dared hope that Leroy’s perpetual state of panic had merely kicked in and he was overreacting as usual, but no such luck; the dwarf shrieked into the phone “MONSTERS!” before hanging up (or being hung up).

Regina banged her head against the steering wheel. 

And so it began: Regina’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Before she’d even had her morning coffee.  
\---------------------------------------  
“I don’t see anything. Show me,” she demanded, examining the alley behind Dark Star Pharmacy. 

“There!” Sneeze. “In the can.”

Regina pushed past the dwarf/pharmacist for a better look at the dented garbage can, now lying on its side. Behind it a burst garbage bag dribbled its contents across the dust. Sneeze. Snuffle. “I lifted the lid to put the garbage inside and”—he threw his arms into the air, accompanied by a whoosh and a shriek. “This thing—I don’t know what—I couldn’t see it; it moved so fast. It came shooting out like a cannon ball from a cannon, you know, and took off down the alley. It busted through the fence and after that I lost track of it. It was small, like”—he slashed his hand across his waist. “That high. And scaly. Green and orange stripes. Sharp teeth. Red eyes.”

“That’s a pretty good description,” Regina assessed as she examined the shattered fence. “Not a gnome; they don’t have stripes. Not an imp; they’re much bigger. Strong little critter, apparently.” She knelt to search the dust for footprints, but she’d no sooner singled out the intruder’s from the dwarf’s when her phone rang again. 

“MONSTERS at Miss Ginger’s!” 

“Well, call the Sheriff—” 

Click.

Regina glared at her phone. “Who do you people think I am, Sherlock Holmes?” She glanced at Tom Clark, whose face was partially hidden behind a handkerchief. “We didn’t bring Holmes over in one of the curses, did we?”

“Not—” Achoo. “Sorry. Allergic to dust.”

She straightened and slid her phone back into her jacket pocket. “All right, call the Sheriff and make a report. If you can get through to him.” With a flick of her fingers she caught a wave of traveling magic and reappeared on Miss Ginger’s lawn, where a crowd had gathered around an oak tree: three dwarfs bearing pickaxes, the Sprats, he with a garden hoe and she with a handheld mixer, and Miss Ginger, with a squirming cat under each arm. All of them were shouting and/or shrieking, except Ginger, who alternated between pleas to her “precious baby” to “come down, come down now to Mama” and threats to “tear the arms off” some unseen person and “stuff ‘em down your throat with nuts and sliced apples ‘fore I shove you in my oven.” 

Regina’s stomach twisted as Miss Ginger’s threats became more graphic. Maybe it was just as well she hadn’t had time for her morning coffee after all. Subtly fishing in her pocket for a Tums, Regina edged up to the frantic property owner. “Now, now, Miss Ginger, no need for violence. I can settle this with no fuss, if you’ll just tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s what’s going on! Can’t you see it? It’s got my Elsie!” Miss Ginger awkwardly attempted to point, with one of her cats, into the leafy branches. “There!”

Regina squinted. Leaves fluttered and a branch rattled, and she thought she saw a flash of orange. “Where?” 

All five spectators filled for Miss Ginger as official pointers. “THERE!”

“It’s a lemur!” Sprat volunteered.

“No it isn’t, you dummy; it’s an armadillo,” Mrs. Sprat spat.

“Nope, a oversized gopher. Look at the stripes,” Happy suggested.

“You fools, it’s a Monster from the Enchanted Forest!” Leroy growled. “And if we don’t catch it, it’s gonna eat that cat and then it’s gonna to ravage this town!” He swung on Regina. “You’re the mayor: DO SOMETHING!”

“Calm down, calm down,” Regina walked around the tree for a better look. “I’ve got this under control.” She shot some magic into the tree, burning away a few of the leaves and causing Miss Ginger to cry, “My precious Elsie, you’re killing her!”

“Oh, hush up.” Regina pointed a glowing finger at Miss Ginger, intending to conjure a gag, then she remembered that heroes are patient with victims and she returned her attention and her magic to the tree. With the leaves burnt away, she now had a clear view of the yellow cat, clinging to the highest branch: she made a hammock of her magic and lifted the animal down into Sprat’s arms. Ginger ran forward, transferring a cat from her left underarm to her right; the cat under the right arm squalled in protest at the jostling. As Ginger swept Elsie from Sprat’s hold, the two prisoners under her right arm broke loose and made a beeline for the garage. Regina tossed a magic seal across the open garage door. Safe behind the invisible barrier, the two cats sat down and soothed themselves by licking their fur. “You stay where you are, babies,” Miss Ginger urged unnecessarily. With a free hand now, she jabbed a finger at the tree. “Get that son of a—”

“It’s all right, Miss Ginger; I’m taking care of it,” Regina interrupted. She burned away some more leaves so she could make out the green-and-orange being clinging by its clawed feet to a lower branch. “What is that thing?” With great precision, she aimed magic at the creature—and then her phone rang. Automatically, and foolishly, she started to reach into her jacket; as she was looking down, she heard a rustling overhead and a crash, and the tree branch landed at her feet and something skittered off into the bush line that separated Miss Ginger’s lawn from the Sprats’. 

Five groans brought Regina’s attention back to the scene. “You let it go!” Leroy announced. “It’s gonna terrorize the whole town!” 

“C’mon, bros, after it!” Happy raised his pickax in the air and galloped off through the bushes, followed closely by Dopey, the Sprats and Leroy. 

Her phone still ringing, Regina pressed the answer button as she watched the vigilantes give pursuit across the Sprats’ lawn, into the street, behind the parked cars and finally, into a jewelry store. Even from the distance and over the ringing phone, she could hear glass shattering. 

“Regina! I’ve been trying to call David but I can’t get—” On the other end of the line she heard a heavy thud. “Through. I need your help. There’s something, some sort of thing, sort of like a cross between Zelena’s flying monkeys and an okapi, but with fish scales. It’s in the school cafeteria, gobbing up the spaghetti and throwing meatballs at the cooks. Help!”

“Don’t try to catch it yourself. I’m on my way.”

“I wouldn’t try. I’m not in the habit of carrying my bow and quiver to school.”

Regina pocketed her phone and summoned a traveling cloud. Miss Ginger shrieked at her, “What are you doing? Where are you going? The monster’s that way!”

“There’s another one that way.” Regina pointed in the opposite direction. “And this one’s threatening the kids. A sorceress can only be in one place at a time.” She hied herself off to the hallway outside the cafeteria and elbowed her way through a crowd of giggling, chattering elementary school kids and their giggling, chattering teachers. “Quiet, you,” she warned, “you might scare the creature into doing something drastic.” She flashed a sneer at the loudest giggler: “Mr. Shoeman! I expected better from you.”

“Sorry, Madame Mayor.” The principal ducked his head.

“Sheesh.” Gingerly she eased the swinging doors open and slid into the cafeteria. Her booted foot slipped in a pool of marinara sauce and she had to grab one of the cooks to save herself from falling. The cook smiled at her in admiration. “Going in, Madame Mayor? You’ll need some protection.” He offered her the pot lid he’d been using as a shield. A second cook offered a serving fork. “Go get ‘em, Ms. Mills. We’re rootin’ for you.”

Regina accepted the makeshift weapons. She didn’t remind the cooks that her magic would handle the enemy more effectively; the admiration they were showing her meant so much more than being correct right now. At times like these, she felt the rewards of her conversion to heroism.

She returned their encouragement with authoritative confidence. “All right. So tell me what you know about this—” she waved the fork at the creature dancing a jig in a tray of Jello. “Thing.”

“Well, it’s not a vegetarian,” said one of the cooks. “It’s eaten as many meatballs as it’s thrown.”

“He’s allergic to garlic. He started off by throwing garlic bread at us, but that caused him a sneezing fit.”

“How do you know it’s a he?” Cook #1 asked.

“Just a guess.”

“It came in through the back door as I was taking out the garbage,” another cook offered. 

“Leaped onto the serving counter, then onto my shoulder,” Cook #2 rubbed at a trio of blood stains on her white jacket. “Dug its claws in, until Mert whacked it off with a frying pan.”

“It fell into the marinara sauce and it’s been eating and throwing ever since,” Cook #1 supplied.

“Has it exhibited any signs of magic?”

“Nope. Tried to bite me, but I smashed him again with my frying pan. If he had magic, he would’ve used it then, I bet.”

“Very well.” Regina nodded at her supporters, squared her shoulders, raised her tin shield and her fork, and inched forward. “You! Whatever you are, put down that meatball this instant!”

This one was similar in appearance to the one that had harassed Elsie, but larger, about two-thirds the size of a flying monkey. As Clark has described it (or its brother—at this point Regina had no idea how many of these creatures might be gallivanting about), its scaly body was striped with horizontal bands of phosphorescent green and tangerine orange. Its red eyes blinked at her; it displayed its pointed teeth at her. 

“You have celery stuck between your teeth,” Regina observed dryly. 

The creature poked at claw at its teeth, and while it was thus distracted, she channeled a stream of magic through the serving fork. The magic splatted across the creature’s face, dribbled down, and engulfed the creature in liquid, which Regina instantly froze into a prison of ice. With a flick of her wrist she transported the creature to Cell B in Emma’s jail, slammed and locked the iron door. 

Applause and hoots of congratulation filled the cafeteria as the students and teachers poured in. Cooks slapped her shoulders. “’Gina, y’er awright!” “Three cheers for the Hero Queen!”

Regina curtsied. “Pardon me. I have a jewelry store to save.”  
\-----------------------------------------  
“Regina, help! A green gnome is riding Pongo and beating him with my umbrella!”  
\--------------------------------------  
“Regina, my manicurist friend got the intel from Mom: she’d finished translating two spells, one for conjuring an imp, one for conjuring a gremlin. If anyone cast the spells, no big deal, right? It’s not like they can summon ogres.”  
\--------------------------------  
“Regina! One of them orange things jumped onto the hood of my car and stuck his face against the windshield. Scared me so bad I ran off the road and knocked down your mailbox. Do something!”  
\-------------------------  
“Madame Mayor! Three gremlins—I don’t know how they got here; must’ve found an open portal—they invaded choir practice, put on choir robes and now they’re singing from the rafters!”  
\-----------------------------

David, Snow and Regina stood with folded arms and scowls, staring into Cells A and B, where nine creatures were pushing and shoving each other to gain possession of the blankets that had formerly covered the cots. David looked as fresh and clean as ever—that was his own magic talent, Regina supposed: even after a day of chasing monsters, not a hair was out of place. Regina, however, was dusty, sweaty and limp, her three-hundred dollar hairdo matted to her makeup-less cheeks, and her thousand-dollar pantsuit torn and stained with grass and marinara sauce. Of course she could clean herself up with a wave of her hand, but she was too tired to care. She accepted a cup of coffee (store brand, but after the day she’d had, she’d have welcomed swamp water for refreshment) from Snow and sank down on the Naugahyde couch, the cracks in the faux leather poking at her legs. 

“I’ll put funds for a new couch in the sheriff’s budget for next year,” she murmured. “And some decent coffee.” The room was growing dark as the last of daylight leaked weakly through the windows. Exhausted, Regina yawned.

“Thank you.” David glanced up at the wall clock as he flipped on the florescent lights. “Well, I missed Gold’s bachelor’s party.”

“Snow and I missed the bridal shower.” Regina drooped back against the couch. “And Gold gave Ruby unlimited access to his wine cellar for it.”

“What do think they are, Regina?” Snow studied the prisoners closely. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Neither have I. They’ve got the temperament of a gnome, but the stripes—”

“They’re grimps.” Clattering heels in the hallway followed the angry voice. In a moment, Zelena swept in. Beneath her pinch on his ear struggled a squealing teenage boy, and after him trod his red-faced parents. 

Snow’s mouth formed a long line. “Dick Whittington. I should’ve known you were behind this. What did you do?”

Zelena released him so the boy could stand straight, but the kid merely snorted his reply. Zelena grabbed him by the nose this time and squeezed until he yelped. “Answer her properly and respectfully or I’ll yank this snozola of yours right off.”

“Don’t punish him too hard,” Dick Senior begged David. “It was just a prank. You know, a kid’s prank. Like we used to do.”

“David was too busy trying to save his farm to play pranks,” Snow snapped. “As for you, young Master Whittington,” she walked up to the boy and flashed her teeth at him, though he stood a full head taller than she. “You were a spoiled brat in my fifth grade science class and these six years haven’t made you any better.” 

“This might answer some questions.” Zelena snapped her fingers. “Give it up, brat.”

“Make me, witch,” the kid sneered.

His mother groaned and reached into Dick Junior’s T-Birds jacket. What she found in the inner pockets, she lay carefully onto the deputy’s desk. David stared down at the haul.  
“I’m sorry, Sheriff. Mayor.” She swallowed hard. “You too, Mrs. Nolan. I—we—should’ve been stricter with him. He was an only child, so we thought we were being lenient. We let him run wild.”

“Showing up for parent-teacher conferences would’ve been a good start,” Snow commented. 

David held up the contents of Dick Junior’s jacket. “A book, in some unrecognizable language, and some notes, in some recognizable handwriting. Belle’s.”

Awakened, Regina leaped to her feet and took the book. “This is it.” She shook a finger into Dick’s face. “What were you doing with--”

Suddenly the air filled with a bright light and the scent of sulfur. “Magic!” Regina spun around, seeking the caster; Zelena shrugged and shook her head, while the non-mages stared in bewilderment. “Look!” Mrs. Whittington pointed to the cells.

One by one, the creatures faded from view. 

“Where did they go?” David rushed to the cells to examine the locks. “Are they loose?”

Regina set the book aside and flipped through the pages of Belle’s notebook. “Back where they came from, which is to say, nothing.” She summoned a fireball and bounced it from hand to hand. “Start talking, brat.”

With each toss, the fireball grew bigger and Regina took a step closer to Dick Junior. “You know, sis, I bet we could start a new fashion trend at the high school if you singe off his eyebrows.”

Beads of sweat formed on the teen’s forehead. “It wasn’t my idea. I just went along for the ride. It was Elmo Zucko’s idea. He said he knew where we could get a hold of a book of spells. I said yeah, there’s a whole bunch of them in Gold’s shop, but he’s got a blood lock on it; nobody can get into that shop unless he lets them. Mo said he saw a spell book on Mrs. Gold’s desk, when he went in to pay a fine. He knew it was a spell book because he saw her notes. She put it in a drawer and locked it before she took his money. That’s how we knew where it was.”

“How did you go from this,” David pointed to the book, “to this?” He pointed to the jail cells, where the only remaining evidence of the creatures was the shredded blankets.

“I think I see.” Regina held up the notebook, so that all could see a smudge of something purple that was causing some of the pages to stick together. “Grape jelly,” she explained. “On page 1, the beginning of a set of instructions for conjuring an imp. Stuck to the back of page 1, the instructions for conjuring a gremlin.”

“Hence, a grimp,” Zelena concluded. “Didn’t it occur to you it’s stupid to cast a jelly-smudged spell?”

Dick Junior shrugged. “I was hungry. Anyway, the instructions said the spell wouldn’t last past sundown. So what’s the big deal? We had some fun, they’re gone, no harm done.”

Mrs. Whittington climbed on tiptoe to smack the back of her son’s head. “Stupid, stupid kids.”

“The grimps tore up a school cafeteria and a jewelry shop. They scared half the population of this town,” Regina growled.

“One of them swallowed five thousand dollars’ worth of diamonds and sapphires.” David added.

“So what? Jeweler's got insurance, right?” 

“You and your friends are under arrest.” David swung open the door to Cell A and gestured inside. 

“You’re kidding.” Dick Junior smirked. “You can’t jail me. I’m seventeen.”

“Just watch.” David grabbed the kid’s arm and directed him into the cell, over the boy’s howls and the father’s protests. 

Dick Senior rushed to the cell, trying to prevent David from closing the door. “Now, come on, Nolan, it was just a joke. You can’t put him in jail for that. He’s just a kid; you want to ruin a boy’s entire life over a joke?”

“You want to join him?” David flashed a warning finger at the father. “The penalty for obstructing justice is even worse than what the judge is likely to give him.” Dick Senior backed off.

“He’s right, Richard,” Mrs. Whittington snapped. “Stay out of it. I won’t bail either one of you out.” She turned to Snow. “Mrs. Nolan, I understand Gold is a family attorney. Does he do divorce cases?”

“I don’t know, but I think he’d make an exception for you.”

As David fished into his jeans for his phone, he suggested, “Regina, you should take possession of the evidence for the time being. I’m calling Leroy to round up the other kids involved.”

Snow glanced up at the clock. “And if we hurry, we’ll have just enough time to get out to the wedding. Though I hate to go like this.” She indicated the skirt-and-sweater combo she’d worn to school that day. 

Regina volunteered, “I can take care of the attire problem, along with the transportation, if you’ll babysit the brat, sis?” 

“Glad to,” Zelena winked at her sister before seating herself on the couch. “Master Whittington, you and I are going to have a long, long chat about wickedness and what it gets you in this world.” She leaned forward to sneer at the kid. “And you’re going to hang onto my every word. And so are you, aren’t you, Mama and Papa?” She patted the space beside her, inviting Mr. and Mrs. Whittington to be seated. 

“When she says ‘a long, long chat,’ she’s not exaggerating. Expect to remain here until daylight.” With a flash of magic, Regina traded the Charmings’ everyday clothes for formal wear, then exchanged her stained J. Crew pantsuit for an Altuzarra silk dress. “Now, Snow, if you’ll tell me where you left your wedding present, I’ll transport that too.”  
\-------------------------------------------  
She’d dropped down onto one of the folding chairs at the banquet table just as soon as the ceremony—thankfully brief but beautiful and emotional just the same—had concluded. Henry brought her a filled plate and gave her a quick kiss before scampering off to fulfill his role in the wedding: he was the official DJ, providing music that he’d selected himself as his gift to Grandpa and Grandma Gold. Of course he started off with “The Theme from Beauty and the Beast,” to which the Golds danced alone, then he segued into a waltz that the other couples could join in. Regina noted among the dancers the surprise pairing of the night: Granny Lucas and Moe French. She watched the couples lean into each other, sharing whispers and sly kisses, and she thought she would be willing to trade every jewel and every dress in her collection for just one dance with Robin. 

Half-asleep, Regina didn’t hear the approaching footsteps over the soft grass. She was startled out her reverie when a glass of wine was set down in front of her and the empty seat to her left was suddenly occupied. 

“Thank you, Regina. I understand you had quite a day, saving the town from teenage delinquents.”

“I suppose I’m getting too old to be chasing grimps around town.” She sipped the wine. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Thanks to you, Mom and Dad had a wonderful day with their friends.” He clinked his glass with hers. “And this beautiful, peaceful celebration tonight.” 

“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” As Henry moved the music along to “Wild Thing,” setting off a burst of laughter in the audience, she tilted her head toward Granny and Moe, who were teaching the others how to Swim. “One of these days, you’re going to have to tell me that story. Your grandfather and Granny Lucas, how they got together.”

“I’ll be glad to. Like all the other stories here, it’s an original.”

The music segued into a song that Regina had heard many times blaring from Henry’s bedroom and she couldn’t help but tap her foot. Gideon rose, bowed and offered his hand. “Madame Mayor, I know you’ve had a hard day and you’re tired, but just one dance?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Gideon; I’m not sure I can dance to this.”

“You already are.” He indicated her tapping foot. “Come on, Regina, it’s ‘Uptown Funk’; who can resist? Let’s make those dragons want to retire.” He pointed to Maleficent and the Dragon, who was now going by his true name, Wu Yang. Their movements had nothing to do with the rhythm of the song, but it didn’t matter to them or anyone else. 

“You know, I think I can manage one dance.” As Regina let Gideon lead her onto the dance space, she glanced across the meadow, where the Golds, still in a tight embrace, had moved apart from the crowd. They waved to her, then as Belle rested her head against her husband’s shoulder, his magic swirled around them, blocking them from view. The magic dissipated and the couple was gone.

Regina didn’t feel quite so tired now. In fact, she felt rather heroic.


End file.
